Tom Hanks is Walt Disney and Emma Thompson is Mary Poppins author P.L. Travers in an entertainingly Disneyfied take on the making of the beloved family film.

Tom Hanks as Walt Disney. That’s almost enough to sell the picture by itself, isn’t it? Who but Hanks can one imagine in the role?

Hanks isn’t the spitting image of Disney: His face is a bit broader, and Disney had a more prominent nose. Hanks is squintier, too, and tends to knit his brows, where Disney’s brows often levitated well above his eyes.

Yet Hanks’s genial, beloved public persona — the most trusted man in America, according to a rather head-scratching recent poll — may be the nearest analogy we have to Uncle Walt in his day. Disney was Mickey Mouse; Hanks was (and is) Pixar’s Woody.

At 57, Hanks is almost the right age to play Disney at 60, when he finally met Pamela L. Travers, the creator of Mary Poppins. Disney had been courting her for two decades for film rights to her beloved heroine — unsuccessfully until then, since Travers very much did not want to see Mary Poppins become the sort of heroine that Disney would undoubtedly make her, and did.

And who but Emma Thompson could play P. L. Travers? Thompson is not only a children’s author in her own right, but lovingly adapted Christianna Brand’s stories of a magical nanny named Nurse Matilda as the Nanny McPhee movies. Nurse Matilda, or Nanny McPhee, had perhaps more in common with the stern literary Mary Poppins (“the very enemy of whimsy and sentiment,” Thompson’s Travers insists) than either had with the singing protagonist of Disney’s beloved musical.

Hanks’ Disney is a teddy bear; Thompson’s Travers is a porcupine. They go together like apple pie and, oh, liver and onions. He lights up the charm, part aw-shucks folksiness, part schmoozing Hollywood con man. She refuses utterly to be charmed. Indeed, almost every word out of everyone’s mouth is fresh confirmation of all her worst fears, provoking new irritation, disparaging remarks and dire predictions about the futility of the whole prospect of a Disney adaptation — an adaptation that Travers, who is near to broke, needs as much as anyone.

Hanks and Thompson’s beguiling performances and nearly perfect non-chemistry are the saving grace at the heart of Saving Mr. Banks. Directed by John Lee Hancock (The Blind Side; The Rookie), it’s an enjoyable serving of Hollywood schmaltz that manages to transcend a potentially queasy premise.

Hollywood loves self-congratulatory movies about Hollywood, as well as sentimental movies like Finding Neverland and Becoming Jane that fictionalize the creative process, planting the seeds of the author’s later work in the dreams and tears of youth. This time, though, there’s a catch.

Saving Mr. Banks is history written by the winner: a Disney movie that regales us with just how ridiculously hard a prickly, capricious British authoress made it for our Uncle Walt to bring us Julie Andrews and Dick Van Dyke in one of the most beloved family films of all time.

Walt won that war of wills and Disneyfied Mary Poppins; now, adding insult to injury, he’s Disneyfied her creator, playing her abrasive personality for laughs as well as making her more conventional than she seems to have been. Travers has become a ridiculous creature of fun, just as she feared Mary Poppins would be. The closer Saving Mr. Banks is to history, which I suspect is not very, the more deeply it would doubtless have enraged Travers.

Perhaps if you love Disney’s Mary Poppins, you can shake your head indulgently at Travers’ misguided efforts to thwart the cinematic apotheosis of her magical nanny: Some people just don’t know what’s good for them. I confess I’ve never fallen under Mary Poppins’ spell, either on the screen or on the page, but for what it’s worth, my sympathies are rather more with Travers than with Disney.

Here’s how I see it: What makes Saving Mr. Banks different from Finding Neverland and Becoming Jane is that it’s precisely about the tendency of Hollywood in general and Disney in particular to reshape everything they touch, repackaging it into a palatable, reassuring something the masses want, or what the filmmakers think they want, instead of what it really is.

“Maybe not in life, but in imagination” is how Disney, in a crucial scene toward the end, describes the sort of “salvation” stories offer. He suspects Travers’ own stories are all about trying to “save” a Mr. Banks in her own life, not in life, but in imagination. Whatever liberties have been taken, at least the film confesses that’s what storytellers do.

Travers feels strongly that magical nannies should prepare children to face up to the realities of life and disapproves of leading children down the garden path of whimsy and sentiment. On the other hand, the realities of life do not include magical nannies, but they do include whimsy and sentiment. Wounded souls find respite from this vale of tears in different ways. Some turn to comforting, cheery tales like Disney’s Mary Poppins; Travers turned a different way, but the tenacity with which we cling to our preferred narratives, whatever they are, tells the same story.

In flashbacks, we meet Colin Farrell as the adoring, adored father of a young girl (Annie Rose Buckley) who will grow up to be the creator of Mary Poppins. At first, he seems idealized, even when signs of stress and weakness surface; but, of course, all children idealize their parents when they are young. The back story’s twists and turns, which verge unexpectedly dark, lay the emotional groundwork for the main story.

The soul of Mary Poppins is the sparkling soundtrack, and Jason Schwartzman and B.J. Novak are splendid as the Sherman brothers, banging out the tunes all in more or less finished form, Most of the best-loved lines are here, including the surprising Christian iconography of Feed the Birds: “All around the cathedral, the saints and apostles / Look down as she sells her wares / Although you can’t see it, you know they are smiling / Each time someone shows that he cares.”

Paul Giamatti, of all people, brings a surprising ingenuousness to a stock character, the unassuming salt-of-the-earth chauffeur. In a small role, Michelle Arthur is hilarious as a Disney employee named Polly who embodies the soul of Minnie Mouse.

Scratch the surface, and Saving Mr. Banks is less self-celebratory than it might appear. Under Hanks’ twinkle and charm is something hard and even selfish, something only interested in making his movie his way. (It doesn’t quite show him smoking, something the real Disney was careful never to do in public, but we do see him hastily put down an unlit cigarette with a remark about not wanting to be a bad role model to children.)

Whatever else it does, the movie allows Travers to have her say. Practically everything Travers accuses Disney of wanting to do to her creation is precisely what we know he actually did.

I don’t know how many people will choose to see Saving Mr. Banks as a veiled confession or self-indictment — the story (as Disney himself puts it in order to deny the suggestion) of a Hollywood King Midas in whose kingdom Travers’ heroine is just another brick — but it’s certainly a valid approach.

Steven D. Greydanus is the Register’s film critic and creator of Decent Films.He is studying for the permanent diaconate for the Archdiocese of Newark, New Jersey.
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Comments

Just my two cents, having just seen the film: first, I was familiar with the film before I was familiar with the books; second, while I have read the first book, I remember almost nothing from it, it didn’t stay with me, and I never read any of the others; that being the case, however, I think I came to this film with a sober mind. That is, while I enjoy watching the film version of Mary Poppins, I don’t idolize it, and I am sympathetic to P. L. Travers’s situation, little though I know of it. Consequently I wasn’t upset with Emma Thompson’s portrayal of Mrs. Travers in terms of rejecting things that I knew from the film (I have to admit, though, I was a bit reminded of her performance in “Stranger than Fiction”). I thought that both she and Tom Hanks were believable (I felt like I was seeing Walt Disney in a movie!), and that the filmmakers were fair to both Travers and Disney here, so that I both identified with each person’s situation and also resented how stubborn each could be with regard to the project. And in the end, I felt that this film is like Walt Disney’s “Mary Poppins” itself: not necessarily the best, and not necessarily completely true to life (or even easy to make sense of), but emotionally it has it where it counts. And fun as it might have been to see, I’m glad they used actual footage of the “Mary Poppins” movie at the end instead of dramatizing it with young actors portraying Julie Andrews, Dick Van Dyke, David Tomlinson, etc. In all, I’m glad I saw it—I don’t idolize it, just as I don’t idolize Walt Disney’s “Mary Poppins”, but I enjoyed watching it.

Posted by Esther O'Reilly on Friday, Dec 27, 2013 5:13 PM (EST):

I just watched the film and can’t deny that it had me misty-eyed at the end. I’ve always thought that Mr. Banks’s redemptive arc was the most powerful aspect of the original film, so I “got” what the makers were going for right away.

I confess I’ve never read the books either, but I’m a big fan of the movie mostly because of the two leads and the special effects. Julie Andrews and Dick Van Dyke are brilliant together. And you have to admit that the set design was breath-taking. Those paintings of London with holes cut out for lights looked so much like the real thing, I was gob-smacked when I watched the behind the scenes documentary.

I’m a cynical type, but I agree with Jim that you may be over-cynical when it comes to Disney’s motivations. I have a lot of admiration for Disney myself. He was a true American who started with nothing and built what he gained from the ground up, through his own creativity and hard work. And I think he genuinely loved children, and it gave him pleasure to come up with new ways to entertain them. I also found it interesting that he testified before HUAC about communist infiltration in the movie industry. From my perspective that’s a point in his favor, though with the caricature of HUAC that’s been spoon-fed to the American people for so long it’s naturally a distressing point for Disney fans.

As for the film’s treatment of Travers, I think they softened her character for the movie. (The whole story of Travers’ life and what she was like would be too bizarre for a Disney film.) She never did like the movie adaptation, so I’ve read, and refused to sell Disney the rights to any more of the books. Of course that would be an awkward, sour note on which to end the movie, so they didn’t tell that part of the story. But it’s easy enough for people to research for themselves. As far as I can tell, the core of what happened in the two weeks of wrangling with the script-writers and the Sherman brothers is preserved fairly faithfully, as are the details of her very unhappy childhood. Since that was the goal of the film, I think it works pretty well.

Posted by jim louis on Friday, Dec 27, 2013 12:07 PM (EST):

I agree with much of your review. Hanks and Thompson’s “non-chemistry” really does work. Schwartzman and Novak are great as the Sherman brothers. I too thought Giamatti and Arthur were fantastic. One scene with Giamatti in particular was really touching and is one of the highlights of the film. Minnie Mouse is the perfect description of Arthur’s character.

Where I’d disagree a little is the way you describe Disney using and abusing Travers twice:

“Walt won that war of wills and Disneyfied Mary Poppins; now, adding insult to injury, he’s Disneyfied her creator, playing her abrasive personality for laughs as well as making her more conventional than she seems to have been. Travers has become a ridiculous creature of fun, just as she feared Mary Poppins would be. The closer Saving Mr. Banks is to history, which I suspect is not very, the more deeply it would doubtless have enraged Travers.”

You seem to almost feel sorry for Travers. I don’t. Not one bit.

There’s no doubt that Walt Disney wanted his hands on any idea that he thought he could turn into gold, but I truly don’t think it was simply gold money that Walt wanted. I think Walt wanted gold imagination, creativity, entertainment and legacy. He wanted his films to be special. Films that families would want to watch for eternity. Disney had an incredible team of artists and knew he could make magic out of a good kernel of an idea. Travers Poppins idea was a very good kernel. But Disney knew he wouldn’t make the most people…children in particular…happy and entertained if he adhered strictly to Travers’ printed words. Yes, Travers’ Poppins book got “Dysneyfied”, but many (including myself) are so thankful that it did. Disney’s take on Poppins pushes the boundaries of entertainment and creativity to the limits. I liked it when I was young, but appreciate it even more now after watching it with my kids and even when watching by myself. I marvel at how it sucks you in from the opening scene until the end, taking you inside chalk drawings and later onto rooftops with chimney sweeps and then to the transformation of Mr. Banks. I’d argue there hasn’t been a family film released since Mary Poppins that has entertained as large of a percentage of theater-goers, whether old or young, male or female.

As for the film itself, I thought it was very enjoyable, entertaining and fascinating. The acting is top-notch all around. I’d strongly recommend it to anybody.

Posted by Mirko on Wednesday, Dec 25, 2013 2:36 PM (EST):

I like Emma Thompson forever.

Posted by James C. on Monday, Dec 23, 2013 5:39 PM (EST):

I don’t know…growing up I always thought Mary Poppins was awfully strict and stern. It took both Ed Wynn AND Dick van Dyke to get her to loosen up a bit, and even then she ended up taking off when their father got soft and flying kites and all.

Historical accuracy is neither the decisive criterion for a fact-based film, nor is it irrelevant. A historically accurate film is not necessarily a good film, nor is a film that takes liberties with history necessarily a bad one, but where and how a fact-based film takes liberties with history is absolutely a criterion that can and often should be considered in arriving at a well-informed opinion of the film.

“Truth” is a larger and more important criterion. Along with goodness and beauty, truth is a perennial criterion by which all art can and should be judged. Truth, goodness and beauty are “refractions, as it were, across the prism of consciousness, of the boundless realm of being, which extends beyond man, in whom they actuate an ever more extensive participation in Being itself,” said Pius XII in his discourses on the ideal film, which must measure up to these demands.

“nor is it ‘sentimental schmaltz.’ It is a film about anger, loss, alcoholism finding redemption…in story.”

Make up your mind, friend. :-)

Posted by Chris WHITE on Sunday, Dec 22, 2013 7:42 PM (EST):

Those seeking historical accuracy (re: “truth”) in motion pictures are a sad lot…second only to those who seek some authentic document of the creative process. SAVING MR. BANKS is neither, nor is it “sentimental schmaltz.” It is a film about anger, loss, alcoholism finding redemption…in story. Tom Hanks’ Walt Disney is “Walt Disney” not Walt Disney. Same goes for P.L. Travers, the Sherman Brothers, DaGraddi, Paul Giamatti’s lovely “Ralph.” Friends, this is what stories are, this is what they do. They synthesize real and imagined events into an unfolding narrative that (on a good day) finds resonance in its audience. SMB is a fine attempt that succeeds on far more levels than it disappoints. The star is Colin Farrell (or perhaps Mr. Giamatti) who’s work transcends the filmmakers’ derring-do…elevating the work to something genuinely sublime. As well, Mr. Hancock’s deft direction of the “Fidelity Fiduciary Bank” sequence is notable…one of the best four minutes of film released this year.

Hollywood certainly has a creativity problem. Too many movies these days follow the same tired templates: We have too many movies based on comic books, video games or toys, too many dystopian or apocalyptic movies, too many grossout comedies. And of course too many sequels, prequels and reboots.

At the same time, truthful stories are still being told. Movies like Captain Phillips, 12 Years a Slave and Fruitvale Station certainly shaped the historical events they related, but not, I think, in a way that fundamentally falsifies the stories they told — and certainly not in a way that makes them unsatisfying as films. Movies like Gravity and All is Lost told fictional stories with great power, even if Gravity in particular was patently unrealistic in many ways.

I’m sympathetic to the claim that “trusting reality” often makes for better drama than what filmmakers end up doing with it — but all art involves shaping one’s material.

Saving Mr. Banks certainly shapes its material, and while I wouldn’t say the result is a great film, I’d call it a satisfying one.

Posted by quirkycatholic on Saturday, Dec 21, 2013 9:12 AM (EST):

Sadly, the movie industry can’t seem to control itself from twisting and tainting either truthful fiction or actual history—yet it lacks the creativity to come up with its own original works of cinematic art. Hollywood, and Disney, think they have to tamper with real life, rather than trusting in it to tell the best stories. That’s why so many movies are so false, so frustrating, and ultimately so unsatisfying.

I love it that my second comment here is from a fan of the books! Miss Travers would be pleased.

Posted by mrscracker on Friday, Dec 20, 2013 4:22 PM (EST):

The real Mary Poppins books were great & a little dark & edgy. As a child, I enjoyed them much more than the film.
And I agree with Rosemarie, Disney films made while Mr. Disney was alive were so much better.

Posted by Rosemarie Kury on Friday, Dec 20, 2013 11:28 AM (EST):

I loved Mary Poppins, and yes I will go and see it. I believe Walt Disney at the time was much more concerned about how his films were made, the family atmosphere at his park, which has been smudged now. All of the films made when he was alive were family oriented and not PC like some of his are today.

I’m sure ms. Travers was a little upset as an author, but that’s nothing compared to how Hollywood treats films and authors today.

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